


thinking out loud

by spangel



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spangel/pseuds/spangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll have a... a large mocha frappe," Spike says, snapping Angel back into reality.</p><p> </p><p>(He totally wasn't staring at Spike's disgusting lips. Nope.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	thinking out loud

Angel's only doing this for the money.

 

He's fresh out of medical school, barely managing to pay the rent for his one bedroom, disgustingly small, run-down apartment, and the only way for him to get by is by working a job at Slayer's Coffee & Delicatessen. 

 

He's only doing this for the money, and every time that the asshole with the fake blonde hair walks in, he thinks about demanding more. Spike makes everything  _horrible._ Angel really should be getting paid more, for having to deal with him.

 

"What do you want this time, Spike?" He sighs. Spike always comes in on Monday mornings, so Angel has started preparing himself for it. He wears a frown, yells at customers, somehow manages to avoid getting fired, but  _only on Mondays._

 

Every other day he's happy and cheerful - as cheerful as Angel can  _get,_ which, as others have pointed out, is  _not much._ But he tries. 

 

If the owner, Faith, didn't have soft spot for him, he'd probably be out of a job by now.

 

He saved Faith's life, once, by pushing her out of the way of a speeding car - unfortunately, this meant that Angel got hit instead of her, but Faith visited him in the hospital, talked to him, learned as much as she could about him. When she learned that Angel was going to have a hard time paying his hospital bills, she offered him a job.  _It's ready for you whenever you get recovered!_

 

 

The other reason that he prepares himself for Spike, is that Spike always  _looks at him_ in a way that makes Angel melt.

 

It's cliché and Angel knows it, but when Spike looks at him and bites his lip, Angel wants to die. He wants to die because Spike is an  _asshole,_ but a very attractive asshole. He wants to die, because he shouldn't be feeling this way.

 

"I'll have a... a large mocha frappe," Spike says, snapping Angel back into reality.

 

(He  _totally_ wasn't staring at Spike's disgusting lips. Nope.)

 

"What?" 

 

"Did you not bloody hear me, or were you too busy staring at my hot body to listen?"

 

The people in line behind him look away and pretend that they didn't hear.

 

"I'm sorry," Angel says, flustered, "what was it again?"

 

Spike  _never_ orders the same thing. He doesn't have a 'usual'. Angel's starting to think that he mixes up his orders purely to piss him off.

 

"A large mocha frappe," Spike says, and smiles. " _Please._ "

 

"Coming right up," Angel says, and then, under his breath, adds, " _you fucking asshole._ " _  
_

 

* * *

 

He makes Spike's drink while muttering profanities to himself.  _Fuck. That fucker. I can't believe that asshole. I hate him._

 

Faith hears him. She walks up to him, and asks, "Spike's here again?"

 

"Yeah," Angel responds, "every fucking Monday." _  
_

 

Faith begins wiping down the counter. "Y'know," she says, "I never hear you swear unless you're around him."

 

"I never have any reason to unless I'm around him."

 

Faith shoots him a smile. "You always say that you hate him, but you two act like... I don't know. You fight like you've been married for fifty years."

 

Angel's cheeks begin to grow warm. "What? I don't even  _know_ him!"

 

"Just something I noticed," she says. She gives Angel a wink, and walks away.

 

Angel tries to hide the blush on his face when he calls out Spike's name.

 

He thinks about what Faith said.

 

On one hand, he  _does_ like Spike. He likes arguing with him, he likes to make Spike angry. He likes Spike's disgusting face and his gross British accent.

 

On the other hand, he hates Spike. He has almost  _no respect_ for others. He is shameless. He yells at people and makes them cry. He cuts in line. He is  _horrible._ _  
_

 

Angel doesn't know what he's doing when he slips Spike a piece of paper with his number on it along with his receipt.

 

* * *

 

 

Angel waits all night for Spike to call.

 

Finally, at  _midnight,_ just as Angel's getting ready for bed, his phone rings.

 

Angel  _swears_ that Spike's calling him late on purpose - like he somehow  _knows_ that Angel's about to go to sleep, and thinks,  _this is the perfect time to bug Angel!_

 

 

"What do you want, Spike?"

 

"Come over," he says, in a drunken slur. 

 

Angel doesn't question it. "What's your address?"  
  


 

Spike gives Angel his address, and Angel can see it now, how the night is going to end - Spike's had too many beers, he calls Angel up, things happen that they'll both regret.

 

He sighs, and drives anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Spike's house is  _worse_ than Angel's run-down, disgustingly small, one bedroom apartment. _  
_

 

He lives in the part of the city that has the biggest crime rate. That should've been Angel's first clue.

 

But honestly, it's exactly what Angel expected it to be - trashed, messy, unkempt.

 

(It's not like Angel's apartment is sparkling clean, either, but at least he  _makes an effort._ )

 

There's so much trash that Angel can barely get through the door.

 

"Welcome," Spike says. "Make yourself right at home."

 

"Yeah, no," Angel frowns. "Why'd you call me, Spike?"

 

"Why did you give me your number?"

 

Angel doesn't say anything.

 

"I knew you were staring at my hot body," Spike laughs. "No one can resist it."

 

"I'm sure there are a few people who can."

 

"You're not one of them."

 

Angel doesn't want to admit it, but he's right. Fuck him. 

 

"What's wrong with you?" Angel asks. "Do you think that I spend all night thinking about you, or something? Do you think I'm obsessed with you? Because, to me, you're just another customer. Just another extremely annoying customer."

 

Angel makes his way to Spike's couch and sits down. "If I'm just another customer," Spike says, plopping down next to him and resting his legs in Angel's lap, "then why are you here?"

 

(Fuck him.)

 

"Admit it - you  _like_ me."

 

Angel doesn't say anything.

 

"You know what?" Spike says. "I don't even  _like_ coffee. I like tea."

 

"We serve tea at Slayer's," Angel says, but realizes a few moments later that Spike doesn't come in for coffee. Or tea, for that matter.

 

He comes in for  _Angel._

 

Angel lets out an  _oh._

 

 

Spike unfolds himself and sits down - this time, in Angel's lap.

 

"So you wouldn't mind if I..." Angel says, and trails off.

 

Is he  _seriously_ going to do this?

 

"If I did this?" He says, and pulls Spike into a kiss.

 

Spike does  _not_ mind - he kisses back, stronger.

 

(Angel was right about what was going to happen, but he doesn't think he'll regret it.)

 

* * *

 

 

Spike doesn't come to Slayer's for  _weeks._

 

Angel eventries to  _call_ him, but Spike doesn't answer.

 

Typical fucking Spike, ignoring him after the night that they spent together. Angel should have seen this coming.

 

On the third Monday that Spike misses, Faith starts to notice Angel's lack of swearing. "What happened, did your boyfriend not come in today?" She asks.

 

"Shut up! He's not my boyfriend," Angel protests, "and I haven't seen him for a few weeks, thank God."

 

What he doesn't tell her is that he actually  _misses_ Spike. He doesn't  _want_ to miss Spike, but he does, and he hates himself for it.

 

"Well," Faith says, "you seem to be less angry, and you're treating the customers better, so I like it. I like this new, Spike-less you."

 

* * *

 

 

Exactly a month later, when Angel's finally forgotten about him, Spike comes in.

 

On a Tuesday.

 

"Hello," Angel says, staring at the cash register, "can I take your order?"

 

"You sure can," Spike says, in that deep,  _melting_ voice. Angel looks up immediately.

 

"Where have you been?" Is all that Angel can get out before he pulls Spike into a hug.

 

From across the counter, Faith gives him a knowing look.

 

"I had to leave, for a while," Spike says, "but I'm back now. I'll have a large mocha frappe."

 

He winks at Angel.

 

"Coming right up," Angel smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS IS SHITTY AND FAST PACED BUT I DON'T CARE ANYMORE


End file.
